End Results
by Afatcat101
Summary: A few short one-shot-type chapter story about the lives of everyone afer Portal 2. Warning: this isn't a fluffly, happy story. Life isn't fluffy...not all the time. Please Read and Review!
1. AIFreedom

**AN: Okay, here is yet another fanfic. I **_**am**_** trying (or more correctly, **_**have**_** tried) writing other fan fictions – they just fail.**

**Anywho, this is my…realistic, in a sense, result of Portal 2. I war you, this is not going to be a fluffy, happy story. It's sort of a downer; pretty negative. Sorry to all you fluff-lovers, but life isn't all rainbows and sunshine. So, don't be afraid to review, it's okay, I won't bite. If you do, I'll read and review a story or two of yours. You scratch my back, I scratch yours, eh?**

**So, I'll shut up, and enjoy the story.**

**I don't own Portal, I just love the game.**

It was another day at Aperture Science; nothing new. It was the same building; they were the same tests; it was the same game of Rock, Paper, Scissors as it had been for nearly sixteen years. To be honest, it was a surprise that sixteen years had already passed since a certain somebody was released into the outside world, left to fend for herself with nothing but her useless cube and very expensive boots (it felt like only a couple weeks, at most). Thinking back, she should have stripped the woman of those boots before letting her free. No matter, what's done is done, and Aperture is finally free of that silent menace. Still, everything seemed much more boring without her. Not that these two robots weren't entertaining. They were; it was fun to see them run around like headless chickens, and eventually falling off a ledge into the deadly goo. Still, _she_ was different. She was special. Not only did she manage to survive impossible situations, but she did so in such a manner that was different from how any other human would do it. Everything she did seemed to have a style to it; the way she walked had a peculiar attitude to it, like no matter what happened to her, she still had a sense of joy or comfort within her –which was strange, given what she went through. Any jumps or leaps she made looked like she was doing it for a score, which would always mark a ten. Even the way she dealt with the Turrets was different. Instead of just tipping them over, she would play around with them; teasing them, throwing them across the room, or going out of her way to neatly set them aside so that they can live another day.

_Those were the days_, GLaDOS thought solemnly, watching her two Testing Bots through a monitor. They were, yet again, having a dance-off in front of the camera, as if GLaDOS was the judge. The AI sighed, "Dancing is _not_ science…Quit screwing around and continue the testing."

The bots ignored her, finally realizing that GLaDOS could never permanently disable them. She was too desperate to test to get rid of them. Of course, she _would_ have been using the humans they found in the vault, but ninety percent of them were either too brain damaged to do anything, or dead, and the other ten percent had been used up within two years. _She wouldn't have failed._

GLaDOS turned on the speaker, looking at the screen, "Continue the testing or I _will_ disassemble your permanently." The bots hesitated, but kept on playing. She was about to blow them up when the lights flickered, bringing her to stop. _That was suspicious…_ She thought curiously, digging through her files and checking for any corruptions or viruses. Nothing showed up, so the AI shrugged it off and proceeded to detonate the robots, continuing her very long, boring life.

**AN: There's the first chapter/story/one-shot, of many (eh, not so many). Any questions, comments, thoughts, concerns, please review and speak your mind. I'll probably post the second chapter, but it's 1:00am now. Good thing it's Friday night! **


	2. SubjectNameFree

She sat silently in a chair, staring straight at a man, who was going over a resume for the second time. The room was quiet, the only sound being the click of the second-hand on a clock as it made its way over the numbers. The lack of noise made her uncomfortable, but she ignored the unease and sat straight in her chair. She waited patiently as the man read over her resume; one hand holding the papers and the other hand holding his chin in a thoughtful stance. He pursed his lips, noting her abilities and her experiences were fantastic. It was very impressive…although, she's had some pretty bad marks regarding her mental state and where she stands with the state government.

The man cleared his throat, looking at a list on the paper, "Well, this is impressive. It's very impressive…" At this the woman nodded, putting on a forced smile, so as not to show her nervousness. The employer glanced to her with hesitation, "But…you're overqualified. You need somewhere with higher requirements and expectations."

The woman stared at him, not too horribly shocked at this statement. After hearing that excuse a hundred times (literally), she's gotten used to it. The man pursed his lips and apologized, handing the resume back to her. She turned her stare into a glare, "You expect me to believe that?"

The man blinked, a bit shocked that she spoke. She hadn't said a word since she entered the building; he thought she was mute or something. He composed himself and looked puzzled, "What do you mean?"

"Seriously…"

"Seriously what? You're over qualified."

"You're not hiring me…because I'm over qualified? Because I've reached your expectations in order to assure you get customers…You're not hiring me," The woman began to get agitated. This had happened way too many times, and she was getting sick of it. For fifteen years, she's been trying to get a job, but every time she's been turned down because she was "over qualified". They say that, but she knows it's not the case. It' deeper than that. They're hesitant to let a psycho work in their building. That's understandable - if the psycho was locked up for going on a rampage and burning peoples' houses down, but that wasn't her. She was locked up for hallucinations; paranoid schizophrenia, extreme PTSD, just plain losing her mind. Albeit that wasn't the only thing on her resume. She did spend some time in jail- well, several times in jail, but they were only in intervals of two days at most. And they were mostly for public disturbances, like soliciting around stores with her cube several times after being told to leave and never come back, or freaking out at moments and making graffiti _indoors_.

Thinking about it all, she knew she was screwed up. She knew she was crazy; it would be impossible to stay sane, given her circumstances. A frown shadowed along her face, and the man spoke, obviously becoming nervous, "Look, I don't think it'd be good to have you. You're too skilled. You'll be getting all of the customers, getting raises and promotions faster than the other coworkers, it's not fair to them. And I can't just not promote you or have you work at a lower level; that's not fair to you. I'm sorry-"

"Oh bull," She stood up, snatching the papers from his desk in a manner that made him jump, "We both know this isn't about my experience. It's about my sanity. You don't want a crazy girl to be working in your building and screwing up your business. Just say it, we both know that's what it is. Just say it. Don't lie to me, especially not with something like that. I'm not stupid, and the fact that you think I'll fall for that insults my intelligence, and I don't like my intelligence being insulted." Her voice grew louder with each word, and tears began forming in her eyes. Not because the interview-gone-bad, but because she hadn't strained her voice like that before, and it was extremely painful to talk. The employer took a breath to speak, but she held her hand up to stop him and turned to the door. She had had enough; there was no way she was going to sit through this crap one more time.

The woman pulled the door open, moved swiftly out, and nicely slammed the door behind her. She stomped out of the building and into the street, glaring down at the ground as she walked pass staring pedestrians. Almost everyone has come to know about the town's psycho, and they were well aware to keep clear from her when she's angry. And she was seldom ever happy these past few years. Things were getting tough; food and gas prices were rising, and jobs were becoming tougher to get or keep. Life was pretty gray these days for most people, but it was black as night for Chell.

She entered a mobile home park, trudging past the REC Center and to her home. As she unlocked her door, she could feel eyes watching her. Ignoring the stares from across the street, Chell huffed and went inside. She put her bag on the table and went into her bedroom, sitting on her bed and holding her head in her hands. _What am I going to do?_

Her thoughts raced around the same track they had for years. They started around the short term, which progressed to long term and how each year gets tougher to live. They swirl around there for a while, lingering at the price of food and bills, and her unemployment, and then her sanity. Naturally, that brought up the blame for her psychological health, and the horrors those memories held. If only that had never happened…what if…?

Just then, the front door opened, followed by some shuffling and movement. An object fell to the ground, and a moment of silence, and then someone spoke. "Hey mom," she said, her tone both tired and energetic. When Chell didn't reply, the door of the bedroom opened to show a teenage girl, watching her mother with worried blue eyes. Chell looked up from her hands and smiled, holding her arms out in a gesture for the girl to come to her. She went and sat by her mother, putting an arm around her.

"You okay," The girl asked.

Chell nodded and whispered, "Fine."

"Mom, you know I never believe you when you say that. What's wrong?"

"I'm fine, Star," Chell looked at the girl seriously, "Go do your homework."

Star watched the woman, observing her expression. Although Chell rarely expressed her feelings, Star could still read her decently. Although she didn't smile or frown to show her emotions, it always showed in her eyes. Chell raised an eyebrow, emphasizing to obey her. Star got up, "Okay I'm going. I'm going," although she hesitated slightly at the door before leaving to her room.

Chell sighed and lay back on her bed, _What am I going to do?_


	3. Agoraphobia

**[Thanks for the review! Whether it's one review, or one-hundred, they always make me smile. So thanks. And please, do review. It helps to encourage the story. I'm still writing this, and I'm not sure whether to end it how it is, or continue, or what, so feedback is welcomed. **

**Anyway, on with the story. Portal is not mine, I just reall love the game ]**

"Space. It's everywhere, you can see it all." The orange optic of the Space Core steadily looked around. He finally seemed to have calmed down, getting used to the infinite black, as well as getting into his low state of power. His internal clock claimed he had a month, at most, before he shut down permanently with no way to turn on. Space looked around at the stars before settling on his friend beside him. "It's everywhere…"

"I know it is, mate. You've said that a million times already…" Wheatley muttered, keeping his blue optic on the only life-sustaining planet in the galaxy. It was smaller now – much smaller. Since they were shot out into space, they've been slowly drifting away from earth. They were almost in the orbit of mars now. That was also a bad thing because, not only are their chances of getting home slim, but the further they are from Earth, the colder it gets, and the less time they have. Cold temperatures cause the mechanics to freeze; the battery works harder in order to move the parts needed for function. In summary, it was a deadline cutting shorter every day.

Wheatley sighed, glancing to the upcoming planet, and then to his left, where the other two cores lay. One core drifted aside Wheatley, green light glowing dimly as he stared back at the Brit. He's been awfully quiet the past few months; he stopped talking only a couple weeks after Fact left. The blue-eyed core moved his glare toward the core beside Rick. It sat in the dark, its once-magenta eye now turned off, creating an eerie look of death. Wheatley slightly shuddered and returned his stare to the red planet they were slowly approaching. Based on how close it was, they might end up landing in the dirt of the rock.

Space core hummed a little, "It's everywhere…"

"I know, mate, I know. It's been everywhere for a long time. Please, I'm begging you, shut up."

The orange eye looked at Wheatley, no longer holding the excitement he once had. If Wheatley had a heart, it would have shattered at the pitiful expression. Space was silent for a minute before saying something that caught the other two cores off guard, "Wanna go home. Miss home, miss her. Wanna see her."

"Her? Who her," Wheatley asked. Space looked at Earth,

"C-C-Curi."

"Curi?"

"Curi, they were friends before everything happened," Rick muttered. Wheatley looked at him, relieved to hear the core's voice. Rick looked at Space Core, then Wheatley, back to Space, and then to the Brit again, speaking in a low tone, "He doesn't know what happened to her."

"What happened to her?"

He hesitated, "Your friend threw her into the incinerator. When she killed _her_, she burned Curi, Anger, Knowledge, and Morality."

Wheatley blinked I shock, "Not Mora. Seriously?"

"Yeah. Some friend, huh? She killed our friends and now she's killed us."

The blue core narrowed his optic, "She did not. She didn't bloody know!"

Rick rolled his eye and looked over to Fact's body, "All I'm sayin' is that she didn't even try to save you. She tried killing you, with us. And she _did_ kill the others."

Wheatley remained silent, not sure how to reply to those comments anymore. He's tried defending Chell, but it always ended up a lost battle. Yeah, she was just doing it to stay alive. She was just going by instinct and what she grew up knowing and doing. True, she trusted him and he betrayed her; it was natural to get angry and want revenge, but no matter the reason, when it all came down to it, the final thought going through Wheatley's mind was, _How could she?_

** By the way, I'm writing a short story for my brother in Basic. It's basically of a bunch of cereal commercials mixed together, but I don't know if they have a genre for commercials, so I might end up putting it under some relating genre (I'll let you know what I do, if I do it).**

** It's a short, simple, not-too-well-thought-out story (and my first one of a non-portall relation) so go easy of me.**


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